


Through Hell

by BloodyRose0753



Series: Come Hell or High Water [1]
Category: Bayonetta (Video Games), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Bayonetta is a Good Aunt, But she is a dedicated troll, M/M, Madama Khepri is a troll, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nemeton, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Stiles Needs a Hug, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Umbra Witch Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-06-19 05:46:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15503637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyRose0753/pseuds/BloodyRose0753
Summary: It took nearly dying by Gerard and his goons, for Stiles to realize things have gotten bad. It took the intervention of an Infernal Goddess for him to survive bruised but intact.So when Derek decided that he wasn't needed and cut him off from the Pack. Well, it's a good thing that the Infernal Goddess of Time respects Stiles and his opinions far more than the "Pack" ever did.And you know what Stiles thinks its high time he stops keeping secrets from his Dad especially if since now all he has is his Dad.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles withheld his scream as a heavy boot slammed against his ribs with brutal force.  _ Fuck!  _ Hunching over as he gained bruises on top of his bruises. Spitting out the blood filling up his mouth, he tossed a snarky grin at Gerard. 

 

“You getting tired _Old Man?_ You sure hit like you’re one step away from a heart attack.”  Stiles let out a hiss as a fist made contact with his temple, _God Damnit,_ and black spots dotting and blurring his vision. 

 

Everything  _ hurt _ . _ Sitting hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt.  _

 

Barely feeling hands grabbing onto his arms as stiles was dragged through the basement. Consciousness fading in and out as he heard Erica and Boyd scream for something. As muffled conversations happened above his head. He could feel his brain pounding against his skull as he was dragged backwards, his feet limply hitting the stairs he was dragged up. 

 

“He doesn’t  _ really  _ need ….  _ If it’s ….. few…..  _ **_bones_ ** …..” 

 

Oh, that did not sound good. That sounded really,  _ really _ not good.  Stiles head sagged down his eyes catching an emerald and gold scarab beetle sitting on his knee. It’s glowing red eyes ominously shrouded by the really weird headdress forming from the ridges above its eyes. He must have been staring at it because it’s red eyes suddenly turned judgemental and so very unimpressed. 

 

Stiles let out a wet laugh, he was getting judged by a  _ dung beetle _ , as he felt the pain in his ribs and he belatedly noticed how much harder it was to breath.

 

It apparently didn’t appreciate his mirth because it clicked loudly at him. 

 

**OLANI BNG**

 

Stiles was about to ask what that  _ even meant,  _ when he was dropped unceremoniously down onto the ground outside. He must have been more out of it than he thought. Turning to his side as he let out a sickeningly wet cough blood spewing from his lips and mixing in with dead leaves. 

 

His brief reprieve was over when a heavy boot crushed down onto Stiles already broken ribs. Feeling his scream gurgle with blood that he was now positive was coming from his lungs. Cracking open his not swollen eye, at the the almost frantic beetle who was pacing in front of him with its wings spazzing every few moments, _ ‘This is it. This is how I die; in the middle of fuck-knows-where with a judgemental dung beetle for company.’  _

 

**OLANI BNG**

 

“Fuck, I don’t  _ even know  _ what that means, you stupid beetle!” Stiles rasped at the very persistant beetle. 

 

The beetle paused in its frantic fluttering, turning so it faced the prone boy with a look that was almost affronted. Before a hand grabbed the back of his head forcing Stiled to stand before slamming his head against the trunk of a tree, repeatedly. 

 

Tuning out the obnoxious and malicious laughter, Stiles turned his head to the beetle that moved so that its forelegs were cradling his forehead. Its red eyes peering into his own whiskey seeing into his very soul.

 

**Let me help you, little one.**

 

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and when he spoke his voice broke softly. “They’re not coming for us are they.” Cracking his eyes open he was met with stern yet sympathetic red. 

 

**No. The only one who can save you now, is yourself.**

 

The beetle’s red eyes glowed briefly, while determination rose in Stiles. 

 

**“OLANI BNG!”**

 

Even if **Her summons** only came out as a whispered rasp. Even if **Her** **summons** was a soft cry. Even if **Her Summons** was the wet blood stained plead against dead leaves. Even if **Her Summons** was done by a child with no formal training. Even If **Her summons** was done by a _Spark_ whose power was dormant. 

 

_ She would come. _

 

_ She would come  _ to rain down death against those who harmed her new contract.  _ She would come _ to enact the vengeance he so desperately needed but would never incite.  _ She would come _ to defend and to protect. 

 

**She came** , rising from the smoldering pits of Inferno forming from the shadow of her dying contractor grabbing the  _ worms _ stopping them from screaming for help as she crushed them in the palm of her left hand, while cradling her  _ precious spark _ in her right. Watching in sadistic glee as the tormentors of her contractor slide from her hand in an unrecognizable pile of slush that thunked wetly against the soft forest ground.    

 

* * *

 

 

Holding her little Spark as close as she could as they receded back into Inferno. Gently running a red nail against her Sparks back, eyes narrowing as she reversed the damage done to him but not all of it. 

 

Some lessons are best learned with a heavy hand. Her Spark’s eyes fluttered open his golden eyes unfocused as he reached for her, a smile pulling at his lips as he whispered. 

 

“Hi Mom.” 

 

Before promptly losing consciousness and slumping against her hand. 

 

Cocking her head to the side as her Golden Dual Crescent Moon headdress tilted with her as she gently read her Little Spark’s memories. 

 

_ What’s a Mom? _

 

It was apparently a woman, her hair a dark chestnut. Her pale skin having a constellation of little brown marks on it. Her eyes an intelligent sheen with a hint of mischief. Around her neck her heart, her  **Umbran Heart** .  _ Interesting.  _ Her full laugh, echoing in her son as the biting sarcasm flourished anew. The way she would rush across displaced couch cushions with a Little Spark nipping at her heels telling her to watch out for the invisible Lava monster, _ (Funny Phantasmaraneae wasn’t there) _ . Her Little Spark crying over how a teacher so badly messed up his name that he refused to answer to anything but  _ Stiles _ , unless called by That Woman. How not long after she would start forgetting things, and how heartbroken the Little Spark was when she could no longer remember him. 

 

She pulled out of his Memories watching as her Stiles softly turned onto his side, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. She glanced up at the swarming demons skirting around her domain, before letting out a sigh. She would need to confer with Madama Butterfly and Madama Styx after all their Summoners will have a new sister to welcome into the fold. Ripping open a portal back to his world, She placed a scarab on a chain and pressed it to Her Stiles heart. He will need to keep it close.

 

Running a finger along his side one last time she placed Her Stiles against the small stump in the middle of the woods.  _ That stump wouldn’t hurt him _ , She was sure of it; her gentle smile turning sharp, _ It would know that he has been claimed.  _

 

Stretching her arms her green skin almost luminescent in the amber glow of the raging fires, Her Elytra and Membranous wings stretching readying herself for the first fight she had in over five hundred years. Her grin turned savage, it's time to remind people why she is the Goddess of Time. Why she is  **Madama Khepri.**

 

And it will be glorious. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles's day continues to get worse, he gets a present and he learns that angels are assholes. 
> 
> Madama Khepri teaches by not teaching. 
> 
> The nemeton is so over having the nogitsune. And is just done with everyone. Except Stiles. It likes Stiles.

Stiles knew something was off when he woke up next to a stump in the middle of a forest. When he knew for a fact that he spent the last few hours getting the everloving shit beat out of him, by Gerard and his thugs. 

 

He remembered the feeling of being cradled gently, even as it got harder to breathe he could swear that he felt his lungs collapse. He remembers feeling safe for the first time in what feels like forever. And that was almost too much. 

 

Stiles frantically ran his hands over his sides raking his nails across his ribs almost digging into the space separating each individual rib. His heart jack-hammering against said ribs as he raked a hand through his buzzed hair as the other clutches against his heart. Feeling the minute trembles in his hands as he tried to get his breathing back under control, slumping against the worn bark of the stump.  

 

Then Stiles starts to feel laughter bubbling in his stomach, he’s laughing even though there is no happiness in what happened. He’s laughing until he’s sobbing. Ugly wounded sounds coming from his throat as the trees start to rustle as a chime of a bell began to ring and feathers started to fall from above the treeline. Swallowing his sobs Stiles freezes, his eyes darting to where the bell chime came from. Seeing a being descending from a now radiant looking sky, that looks like…

 

_ Is that a centaur? Is that a headless flying centaur? _

 

Then he felt it the air picked up as the vague outline of the Monster charged, wielding what looked to be an elaborate spear in its hands. ( _ Seriously _ ?!). Its ceramic looking face where its chest would have gone twisted into a displeased frown. 

 

Shaking Stiles did the only thing he could think of and dived out of the way. Rolling against the ground, pine needles and twigs stabbing at his back, Stiles scrambled to get to his knees. Watching in belated horror as the compact soil of where he was, was now upturned leaving the roots of the stump exposed.  

 

Oh,  _ whatthefuckwhatthefuck _ . What. The. Actual. Fuck!!

 

Feeling the subtle trembling in his limbs as Stiles tried to regain his composure. He needed to figure out how to deal with the damn thing that’s attacking him, hopefully before it impales him on one of its spears. 

 

**Go to Purgatorio.**

 

“Great idea, I’ll just hop on a  _ bus!  _ Let’s not think about;  _ How I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!! _ ” Stiles could feel the annoyance permeating through his bond and conjoining with his own anxiety and desperation. The worst part was how he could  _ feel _ himself getting judged by the Judgiest Judgmental  _ Dung Beetle  _ in existence!

 

Barley dodging a swipe from another oncoming weapon. Making his decision Stiles sprinted towards the roots of the stump, sliding down as he felt a brief cool metal ripping through the skin of his back. Stiles let out a scream as the skin on his back split open saturating the trunk and the soil. 

 

_ Oh god, Oh god, that was my favorite jacket _ !! Was the hysterical thought that Stiles had. Feeling the blood sticking the disjointed fabric together. Before he realized that the monster was closing the gap between them. The bond connecting Stiles to his friend shuddered, almost as if she was nervously pacing.

 

Stiles just barely dodged the  _ next _ thrown spear _ (how many weapons did these things have?!),  _ when time seemed to freeze as his hands grasped onto the extended broken root and  _ yanked  _ hard. Feeling the packed earth give he shifted his bloody hold on the bark of the unearthed limb, gripping it tightly with both hands. Using the momentum Stiles pivoted, ducking under the large arch of the spear, and swung the tree root hard as he could at the ceramic face of whatever that thing is.  

 

Watching in a little awe as the thing staggered back, a crack bisecting the porcelain baby face. Stiles didn’t waste time, running towards the monster with his impromptu bat raised above his head he slammed it down. Flinching at the strangled sound escaping the monster, Stiles slammed the root into the cracked face again and again  _ and again. _ Until it’s front legs gave out leaving the creature kneeling in front of the shakey teen. 

 

Then Stiles felt a sudden feeling of  _ want _ . He  _ wanted  _ to live. He  _ wanted  _ to see his dad again. He  _ wanted  _ to see this thing dead. 

 

Stiles  _ wanted a goddamn break! _

 

Not noticing when the branch started to hum with an ominous red and black hue. Stiles brought it over his head and slamming it down. Barely noticing that his weapon  _ changed _ . Where there was once just a bloodied root, there was now a sleek katana with a blood red blade, with an intricate fox depicted on the blade, and a black and silver pommel.

 

Snarling as the blade came down in the middle of the monsters neck, before continuing down and cleaving the porcelain face in half. Ripping the blade from the corpse Stiles could feel his arms start to tremble though his hands stayed steady. Letting out a hysterical laugh, he raised the sword and brought it down again. Not stopping until his laughs turned into desperate sobs and his arms felt the strain of hacking away at an already mutilated corpse. Stiles was about to hit the mutilated corpse on more time before it, for lack of a better word, exploded. Leaving behind gold hoops in its wake.    

 

Stiles stared blankly at the golden hoops, before collapsing down next to the stump. “I died. I fucking died in Gerard’s torture basement. That has to be it, and this is some really weird death dream.”  

 

Forcefully calming down his heart Stiles leaned against the stump. Feeling the bond connecting him to the person responsible for keeping him alive ( _ maybe) _ , go silent, almost in shock (which, Stiles privately thought was hilarious.  _ Judge that.) _  before it started to thrum with vindictive approval and bemused curiosity. Stiles sighed and ran a hand over his buzzed head. “So, what was that? And what should I call you? Other than Voice In My Head?” Rubbing the back of his neck and feeling the blood sticking his clothes to the open wound, from where the spear broke the skin and resigning himself to the impromptu lesson, now that the immediate danger had passed. “And how do I _ even _ get to Purgatorio?” 

 

**That was Acceptance, it was an angel.** There was a curl of disgust echoing along the bond,  **You may call me Madama Khepri.** There was a brief pause as if  _ Madama Khepri  _ was measuring her words. **Trust your instincts. They will never lead you astray.**

 

Gritting his teeth at that frustratingly vague response; Stiles took a deep breath, focusing on the thread connecting him to  _ his  _ judgemental dung beetle, he pulled. Feeling a sudden surge Stiles pressed the tips of his fingers against his lips and threw his arm out drawing a wide arching circle to the right of him. Gasping at the surge of power using him like a conduit, Stiles watched as the suspended circle thrummed softly with purple magic before intricate patterns started forming in and around it. 

 

Before an angry screech sounded from above him with the ringing bells heralding something else. The winds picked up quickly gathering up 

 

Its form was a massive flying serpent dragon but weirdly translucent _(and honestly how sad is it that the angel is translucent, that is the weird thing)_ , as whatever it was doing was causing the ground to quake and break apart. Before its head reaches down at an alarming speed with its jaws open, _fuck that’s a lot of teeth,_ but before they could they hit a glowing barrier. But the power was definitely coming from behind him. And the only thing behind him was… the stump.

 

And the air suddenly got thick as dread began to pull in Stiles stomach. He didn’t  _ know _ what that stump was, only that now it was angry. No, that’s not the right word for it. That seemingly innocent non-lethal stump was **_livid._ **

 

**Go through the portal. Go through the portal. Right. Now.**

 

Turning to dive into the glowing circle Stiles barely avoided getting eviscerated by the closing portal. Clenching his new found sword to his chest with a new scabbard (he isn’t even going to question that) containing the blade. 

 

**Run.**

 

Stiles ran. 

 

Stiles ran as hard and as fast as he could. Madama Khepri was giving directions as he passed tree after tree. The sword in his hands thrummed with every inhale and shuddered with every exhale. Almost like it was feeding on his agony,  _ (Why are all of his acquaintances assholes?)  _ but it did keep him from noticing the gaping wound on his back.

 

Stiles kept running when he got to the road he kept running. The sword that he kept seemed to be almost content eating the pain he currently was in. Which was great, but what happens when it stops? That’s probably another thing he wasn’t going to think about. 

 

Stiles kept running, when he reached Beacon Hills he could have sobbed. Then he took a look around, everyone was a transparent silhouette with no faces, just vague forms to distinguish themselves from indistinguishable blobs. 

 

“Hello! Can anybody hear me!” 

  
There was no answer.  __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not very good at action scenes. Which makes this chapter a bit clunky. But on the plus side BAMF Stiles! I think???


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madama Khepri really should have remembered why demons stopped making the Umbran Watches. And Queen Sheba is moderately annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait and the short chapter. Its been a rough couple of months, family drama and work being... well work. But I'm back so please enjoy this bit of a break from TW and more of a Bayonetta kind of thing.

The weather in Inferno was riotous, reflecting the sudden shifting mood of Queen Sheba.

 

The boiling blood of the Frejentonta river, was crashing against the high banks and scalding any inferno that wandered to close. The demonic woods of the Johnson Forest swayed it the sudden volatile winds, trees uprooting and flying into the frozen lakes. Any infernal of moderate intelligence hid from the wrath of their Queen.

 

Watching in mild relief as her Little Spark skirted around danger once again, thanks to that stump. Even if it was _supposed_ to keep that sneaky fox, instead of handing it off to anyone unlucky enough to come across it. But, perhaps it would be _interesting_ to watch it _try_ to take possession of her Little Spark, it would certainly give the Fox a challenge. And it teaches a valuable lesson about taking things that don’t belong to him.

 

_Perfect._

 

Turning her eyes towards her Queen, _that literally towered above her sitting down_ , Madama Khepri tilted her head down in respect before the nearly suffocating power started to close slowly around the Goddess of Time. Before her Queen, her creator’s, voice rang through her head barely restrained in its fury.

 

**What have you done.**

 

**“Well, I made a contract. And a tree stump tried to poach him.” Madama Khepri said conversationally. “Then I helped said contract into Purgatorio.”**

 

The full weight of the glare that Queen Sheba sent towards the much smaller inferno had Madama Khepri cringing. She normally would have a _never_ taken that insolent tone towards her Queen. Her Little Spark is rubbing off on her and it hasn’t even been a _full day._

 

**_That is not what I meant. You coerced a contract from a mortal. A mortal who had no idea what we are._ **

 

Madama Khepri stifled the urge to roll her eyes, her Little Spark was _definitely_ rubbing off on her, and instead regarded her Queen evenly. **_“He is a Spark.”_ ** The Goddess of Time watched as Queen Sheba tilted her head curiously. **_“He is a Spark who’s light was about to fade. He is a Spark who was abandoned and needed guidance. He is a Spark and now he is a Witch.”_ **

 

Queen Sheba looked down onto the smaller infernal, before steepling her fingers her gaze thoughtful but no less sharp. **_You made him a watch._ **

 

It wasn’t a question, so Madama Khepri just hummed a neutral sound.

 

The Creator of Inferno let out an amused huff. Burning red eyes growing distant briefly before zeroing back onto the smaller infernal.

 

 **_It is an inconvenient time for you to pick a new mortal. Let alone one that doesn’t know the ways of the Umbran Witches._ ** Continuing before Madama Khepri could interrupt ( _and honestly when did that start happening?)._ **_That just means that you will have to remedy that oversight, by whatever means necessary._ ** Giving a slight quirk of her lips and showing a flash of teeth. Queen Sheba lazily gestured with her hand, wordlessly granting permission for The Goddess of Time to leave.

 

As Madama Khepri made to leave she was stopped by Queen Sheba.

 

**_Weren’t the first Umbran Watches made by infernals?_ **

 

Turning her head to look at her Queen sprawling in her throne. Madama Khepri couldn’t quite stifle her response; the bond between her Little Spark and herself thrumming in what would have been best described as _schadenfreude_ . Her only thought was _oh no._

 

 **_“Shouldn’t you know? Or is all of your time spent down here making you a little senile, my Queen?”_ **  

 

Not waiting for the response that would _surely follow_ . Madama Khepri turned and bolted her wings taking her as far and as fast as they could. _What the actual fuck was that?_

 

Not noticing the way everything seemed to still before vibrating with life Madama Khepri rushes back to her own domain. _What have I done?_

 

Unbeknownst to the frantic Goddess of Time, Queen Sheba tilted her head and let a conspiratorial smile grace her features.

 

**_Ah, that’s why we don’t make the watches anymore._ **

 


End file.
